“Look,” Lily said, her embroidery forgotten. She rose and settled herself in the large, green-padded window seat. “There’s a carriage about to pass by.”
Chrystabel and Rose hurried to join her at window, while Violet returned to her chair and opened her book. “So?”
“So…” Lily brushed her fingers over one of the flower arrangements that Rose left all over the house, sending a burst of scent into the air. “We get so little traffic here, I’m just wondering who it might be.”
“The three of you are too curious for your own good.” Violet flipped a page, hoping to find another sage insight. Not that she’d bother sharing it this time.
“It’s our occasional neighbor,” her mother said. “The viscount.”
Violet’s attention strayed from Bacon’s brilliance. “How do you know?”
“I recognize his carriage. A hand-me-down from his brother, the marquess.”
“How is it you know everyone’s business?” Violet wondered aloud.
“It’s not so very difficult, my dear. One need only take an interest, open her eyes and ears, and use her head. I believe the viscount is in tight straits. Not only because of the second-hand carriage, but heavens, the state of his gardens. Your father nearly chokes every time we ride past.”
“I’m surprised Father hasn’t made his way over to set the garden to rights,” Lily said.
“Don’t think he hasn’t considered it.” Chrystabel leaned her palms on the windowsill, studying the passing coach. “Why, I do believe Lord Lakefield isn’t alone.”
Despite herself, Violet rose, one finger holding her place in the book. “And how do you know that?”
“The vehicle’s curtains aren’t drawn.” Chrystabel gave a happy gasp of discovery. “There’s a child inside! And a woman!”
Her interest finally piqued, Violet wandered to the window to see, but of course the carriage was only a blur.
Everything more than a few feet from Violet’s eyes always looked like a blur. It was the reason she preferred staying at home with her books and news sheets, rather than going about to socialize with her mother and two younger sisters. She was afraid she’d embarrass herself by failing to recognize a friend across the room.
“Well, well, well,” Mum said. “I must go bring the lady a gift of perfume and welcome her to the neighborhood.”
“You mean find out who she is,” Violet said.
Her mother’s second hobby was delivering perfume and receiving gossip in exchange. Not that anyone begrudged her the information. To the contrary, Chrystabel Ashcroft never needed to pry a word out of anyone. Warm and well-loved, she barely walked in the door before women began spilling their secrets.
On the rare occasions her mother had succeeded in dragging her along, Violet had seen it happen, her bad eyes notwithstanding.
“I wonder if the viscount has married?” Rose asked.
“I expect not,” Chrystabel said. “He’s much too intellectual for anyone I know.” As the carriage disappeared into the distance, she turned from the window. “Why, he’s a member of that Royal Society, isn’t he?”
“I believe so.” Violet watched her mother wander back to the table, wishing she’d never mentioned wanting to attend a Royal Society lecture. The last thing she needed was Mum plotting her marriage. “Perhaps he would suit Rose or Lily.”
“I think not.” Mum sniffed the perfume in progress, then chose another vial. “I cannot imagine whom he would suit, but certainly not your sisters.”
“It’s just as well,” Rose said, “since you know we three have a pact to save one another from your matchmaking schemes.”
It was one thing—perhaps the only thing—the sisters agreed on.
“Heavens, girls. It’s not as though I arrange marriages behind the backs of my friends.” Everyone Chrystabel knew was her friend. Literally. And they all adored her. “All of my brides and grooms are willing—”
“Victims?” Violet broke in to supply.
“Participants,” Chrystabel countered.
Lily sat and retrieved her handiwork. “How many weddings have you arranged this year, Mum? Three? Four?”
“Five,” their mother said with not a little pride. She tapped her fingernails on the vial. “Only seven months in, and a banner year already. But none, I assure you, against the participants’ will.”
Rose plopped back onto her own chair. “You’re not matching me up, Mum. I can find my own husband.”
“Me, too,” Lily said.
“Me three,” Violet added.
“Of course you all can.” Chrystabel’s graceful fingers stilled. “I wouldn’t dream of meddling in my own daughters’ lives.”
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buy the boxed set to read all three daughters’ stories!
LAUREN’S NEXT BOOK IS…
Lost in Temptation
Book One of
Chase Family Series: The Regency
The eldest of three sisters, Lady Alexandra Chase has always done what was expected of her. But when the man she’s loved since her girlhood returns from a long spell abroad, she quite suddenly finds herself hoping the fine lord her brother has picked for her won’t propose. She decides that if he does, she’ll quite improperly turn him down—that is, until the man of her hopes and dreams informs her he has no intention of marrying her.
The last time Tristan Nesbitt saw Alexandra, he was a common man with no hope of ever wedding the daughter of a marquess. Seven years later, he’s now Lord Hawkridge, which should make him eminently suitable for the woman who long ago captured his heart. But a dreadful scandal has tarnished his name in England—a scandal so horrid that marrying Alexandra would ruin not only her flawless reputation but her whole family. For Alexandra’s own good, he must fight his relentless desires and stay far away…
Read an excerpt…
Cainewood Castle, the South of England
Summer 1808
IT WAS ALMOST like touching him.
Lady Alexandra Chase usually sketched a profile in just a few minutes, but she took her time today, lingering over the experience in the darkened room. Standing on one side of a large, framed pane of glass while Tristan sat sideways on the other, she traced his shadow cast by the glow of a candle. Her pencil followed his strong chin, his long, straight nose, the wide slope
